Violent Charming
by misery1205
Summary: The First Book: Me The Second Book: They The Third Book: You


The First Book: Me.

"Falling, falling, failing

Never knowing where.

Farewell…darling."

Whoa. My head. My hands grasped, grasped through sweet oxygen. Sweet damned life. As my eyes unstuck, the darkness prevailed. Who am I? Right, My name is Me also known as I, My, Myself etcetera etcetera. I sat up, my back protesting with cracks and groans. My eyes expanded, adjusting to the dark. Stars, heavenly bodies hung high above. The grass, the grassy grass was wet. Wet with the milk of the clouds in the sky. My hands heaved my body off the ground, I observed my surroundings. Nothing. Pure darkness. Like a dear angel fallen from the hells above. Truly, if there was a heaven, then hell would be where all His fallen angels lay, and Earth…Earth was hell's fallen angels given a second chance. I walked, and realized I was wearing nothing save a light blue summer shift, nothing. Not even shoes. I have a name. Me. But where am I? Why am I here? I continued, following the celestial bodies east. Flicker, flickering, an easy thing to snuff out. A candle, glowing, penetrating the darkness in which I wandered. I walked closer, but it seemed to be getting farther. Darkness blossomed within my head.

Tick tock, tick tock, your life is a slowing clock about to stop. Heaviness, lights, clocks. Oh it a blanket I noticed as I opened my eyes. A boy…no not a man, not a boy: a middler. My hand reached out, shook him gently on the shoulder. Startled, he fell off the three-legged stool. My voice, raspy with non-use spoke "Who are you?"

Three simple words. Three simple words that can be translated into many diverse translations. Three words. Three words. Three words of identification. The middler looked around and snatched up the scraps of paper near the table besides the couch on which I was sleeping. He wrote, "They. Also known as Him, He, His, Them etcetera etcetera."

His name, his name was They. "Where are the rest, They?"

He wrote, "Gone, gone. Only me. The outcast. The mute one. Your name?"

"Ah, where are we?"

He scribbled, "In my house. Not my home I fear. The big city is many miles away. No people here. Just us. Where did you come from, landing in the grassy grass like that?"

"I fear, friend, I do not know."

He nodded his head in silent understanding. Unhitching himself from the seat he stood. He tossed to notepad back onto the table, the gestured, beckoning me to follow. I got up, shifting the woolen blankets to the side and followed. The dust and grime was heavy, cobweb chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Few traces of past tenants where evident, leaving one to assume the absence of people in this house for quite a long time. We walked, Me and They, to the kitchen, or what was once a kitchen. He handed me an apple, taking one himself and chomping on it. We looked each other in the eyes with silent conversation. I finished, placing the skeleton of the apple back on the counter. My body ached with tightness so I got up and stretched. I looked at my self, no bruises, no marks, just grass stains on my shift. He observed me, my petite body, my night colored hair, my abused nails, everything, staring down to my soul. Abruptly, he took my hand and guided me outside. Past the hoary kitchen, past the dusty living room, past the creaking and cracking lobby. In the lobby he snatched a well-worn bag from the floor near the door. Then out the front door hanging precariously on it's hinges. The morning air was sweet, accented with the wet notes of lasts evening dew. Sinfully addictive, as living went. His hand brushed against mine, letting go. Awaking me from my daydreams with a slap from reality. What was reality? Is it really this? Or is this the dream we dream? Is it following the rules or breaking them and setting your own? The sky shone, a huge ocean with cloud-like boats floating very slowly away. The fish sang in the sky, multi-colored songbirds. He inhaled, a comforting human sound, and ran his hands through his hair. It reminds me of something long ago, stuck in the recesses of my mind. Still, it shone more brightly than the sun, like wheat fields of old. They scrounged around, finding a peeling stick, begging for life. He scratched out these words in the dirt in that grassy grass, "We are moving, I think we should start moving towards the big city. But if you refuse to, you can always start a life here."

Me replied, "No. No, I don't wish to. Besides I have wanderlust, so it seems. Plus I have to rediscover my missing memories."

They nodded, dropping the stick. Human minds. A far place. Like a very dark, large cupboard where memories are only pulled out for need or nostalgia. Never filled to the brim, not even halfway. We walked, watching the sun cycle. Sometime during late afternoon, he asked if I was hungry. I think I said no. Other times during the day we shared our lives, or my remnants of it. He seemed to carry a pain, a terrible burden on his mind. It troubled me a bit, nagging curiosity. But barely knowing him I stayed quiet. His expressions were vast, changing, fleeing at the moment of thought. The grassy grass seemed to go on for miles as we walked together, sometimes hand in hand. Oh his hand; calloused from work, warm and comforting. Night slowly wrapped its dense blanket around us, lulling our minds to sleep. We stopped by one of the sparsely located huge trees. And there we made camp. I watched as They yawned and settled on the base of this great tree. I did the same, beside him. The crescent moon and it children ornamented the blanket of night. Eyes fluttered. I slept. Dreamt.

"Me, Me! I'm here! Where are you going?" a faint voice asks.

I turn, body numbed by rain. The rain hammers me out, cleansing, purifying. But no, I am not pure, no longer pure. I shout back, "I don't remember. The rain was calling me."

"You'll get a cold! You'll get sick!" the voice shouts back. I see a shape, fuzzy outlines. An umbrella, the slip-slap of running feet hitting puddles of rain. Running towards me.

My instincts kicked in. I didn't know whether to run or stay. I ran, ran away from the advancing figure. "You forgot me! Don't you remember me?! My name is You! Don't leave me here! Don't let me die!" the figure shouted at me.

"Nooooo!"

I was shaken hard, wide green eyes staring at me with concern. An almost nightmare. During the night I somehow shifted, sleeping with my head in his lap, my body curled on the grassy grass. "S-s-soo-rr-y…" I stuttered, mouth dry from rest. My mouth yawned, my body sat upright and stretched. Surprisingly, the nightmare made my heart beat faster. My mind shook out the thought, pushing it aside. Who was that voice, figure, familiar inside my head? They's hand was on my shoulder again, trying to see if I'm alright. I turned my head towards him and nodded, reassuring him I was fine. The sun barely reached the tips of grass, it was early. He threw me breakfast, another apple. It was the color o


End file.
